


Speak to Me

by gossamer_sky



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Character's name spelled as Yuuri, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Sexual Content, blatant abuse of italics, i'm tired of looking at this fucking thing so here, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27792538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamer_sky/pseuds/gossamer_sky
Summary: Viktor (who is head over heels) learns to speak the language of Yuuri.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 227





	Speak to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah idk what this is, it started as something sweet and turned into - uh, something else so yeah, oops. Just going to casually waltz into this fandom 4 years late with porn. (Ps, pretty pls no concrit, I will absolutely cry no matter how well meaning, thank you bless <333)

Viktor was not always the most observant man. Often he could get self-absorbed, too caught up in his own head; he’s also occasionally been accused of blatantly ignoring his surroundings.

(Viktor protests greatly at this - it’s not that he _ignores_ what’s going on around him, more like he just genuinely doesn’t notice. Yurio has helpfully informed him that isn’t actually any better.)

However.

If there is one exception to this particular character flaw, it is one Yuuri Katsuki. Since the night of that fateful banquet (which Viktor still gets dreamy-eyed about), he’s had quite a lot of difficulty _not_ noticing Yuuri.

No matter where they are or what they’re doing, his eyes ultimately end up finding the other man. There’s no controlling it; Viktor wants to be drinking in the sight of him as often as possible. Every word, every movement, every expression.

Yuuri was difficult to read at first, closed off and jumpy. Purposely hiding his emotions from everyone - especially Viktor. In those early days, there were moments that Viktor was ready to scream; wanting to reach forward and grab those narrow shoulders, _demand_ that Yuuri give up the thoughts in his head. It was maddening, being faced with such an aloof object of his affections when Viktor thought he was being so glaringly obvious about his own feelings.

(Yuuri argued later that simply showing up naked was not _obvious_ , to which Viktor replied that it wasn’t _his fault_ that Yuuri was being purposefully dense.)

With time and patience - which is also not one of Viktor’s particularly strong virtues - Yuuri had begun to open up. Bit by bit, they worked on each other. Yuuri would soften around him like an ice cube melting in a glass, and Viktor found that he could learn Yuuri. He _could_ have the patience to wait until the other man was ready; he found that when Yuuri would open up and give a little more of himself to Viktor, it was like the sun bursting forth from the clouds. In fact, he was surprised to find, he craved to discover the other man. What had started as a whirlwind night of falling head over heels for a complete stranger, blossomed into real love. Viktor dedicated himself to the delicate art of interpreting the shy Japanese man. If Yuuri couldn’t always use words to tell him how he felt, then he would just have to learn the language that Yuuri did speak.

And suddenly-

He wasn’t sure when it had happened-

One day he just _knew_. Knew by the set of those shoulders and the tension in his jaw that Yuuri was feeling overwhelmed. His next discovery was when he found that Yuuri rubbing the back of his neck meant that he was overthinking something. A flush on his cheeks was excitement, while a flush across his nose meant embarrassment. Tugging on an earlobe was Yuuri deep in thought, trying to work out a problem. Putting a pillow over his stomach when sitting down translated to Yuuri being insecure.

All the pieces of Yuuri began to fall into place for Viktor.

The more time they spent together, the better Viktor got at interpreting the language of Yuuri; with every expression he uncovered, the better Yuuri became at sharing his thoughts in words.

Even with their strides forward in verbal communication, Viktor became so attuned to the man that he could read him from across crowded rooms.

(Privately, he considered this to be his favourite known language.

A language that became unbelievably more wonderful when he could _touch_.)

The time spent apart between Viktor returning to training and Yuuri moving to St. Petersburg was by far the most unsettled Viktor had been in months. They called each other as often as possible; yet Viktor’s eyes would still periodically scan his surroundings, seeking out dark hair and bright eyes. Laying in bed alone at night, his chest would ache so badly that even the thought that Yuuri would soon be beside him didn’t fully banish the feeling.

When they finally, _finally_ reunited, Viktor didn’t even have to look at Yuuri to sense his palpable relief.

They ran to each other in the airport, Yuuri flying into his arms and grasping his shoulders in a frantic grip.

He could feel the reassurance reflected in his own body.

They stood there holding each other for long moments, Viktor with his nose pressed in messy hair. Reflecting on everything that had led them here. Feeling so thankful that he swore he could burst. When they finally pulled back, Viktor tangled their fingers together and smiled.

“Shall we?”

-

It was hours later, after an endless whirlwind of finding luggage and finding food, that they were sitting on the sofa. Finally together in their apartment (and god, Viktor could shout in joy just _thinking_ of living together), sharing space and wonderfully, _blessedly_ alone. Yuuri had been quiet on the way home, eyes wide as Viktor showed him around the apartment. It would have made him nervous months ago, but now Viktor can tell he’s happy from the loose posture, the small smile curving at his lips.

He’s just thinking of suggesting a movie when Yuuri cuts his eyes at him just so, teeth barely biting in to his bottom lip-

And Viktor knows.

He knows that he’s _really_ going to like whatever happens next.

His pulse speeds up (from just a look, _Christ_ Viktor is easy for this man) as he shifts to look more fully at his fiancé.

“Something wrong, zolotse?” He lifts an eyebrow, suddenly buzzing with tension. Yuuri shakes his head slightly, looking over at him through dark lashes. His eyes burn with thinly-veiled heat.

Viktor has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Comes the reply, low and intentional. Slim fingers move from where Yuuri had been resting them on the back of the couch to run slow circles on his own thigh. Viktor’s eyes follow the movement helplessly, _jealously_.

The “Oh?” that leaves his mouth is half-hearted at best, mind already overtaken by thoughts of replacing Yuuri’s fingers with his own - with his _mouth_ , even better -

“Viktor.”

He snaps his gaze back to Yuuri’s, tilting his head to the side in encouragement.

Yuuri is still staring at him, that small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. Those fingers move from his thigh to brush along his neck. “This is a big apartment.”

Viktor _hmm_ ’s agreeably. His lips would feel so lovely on that neck, teeth biting down just where Yuuri’s fingers are touching -

“Very quiet.”

He’d run his tongue right along the tendon, until he reached that spot under Yuuri’s jaw that always caused the prettiest noises to escape from those pink lips -

“Thick walls do you think?”

Viktor blinks. Refocuses. “Pardon?”

Yuuri’s lips curve into something smug now, a man who knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants. “The walls, Viktor.” Viktor shudders, feels his cock start to harden against his thigh. “Are they thick?”

He has to swallow again before replying, knows there’s already a flush blooming on his cheekbones. “Uh, I - think so?”

Yuuri nods sagely. “Oh good.” He shifts then, pushing up onto his knees to crawl over Viktor. Doesn’t stop until he’s practically hovering in his lap, nose to nose. When he speaks Viktor can feel the exhale brushing his lips. “It’s just - I don’t want to have to try and keep quiet while I ride you.”

Fuck.

“Oh,” He breathes, already aching at the mere _suggestion_. “That - would be a shame.” He manages to murmur faintly before Yuuri is bending down to kiss him.

Which, yes, _exactly_. Any moment not spent kissing Yuuri is, quite frankly, a horrible waste in Viktor’s opinion. His lips are soft, so warm. A cut off little sound escapes from his throat as Viktor licks into his mouth. Hands find hips easily; then they’re grinding together, instantly desperate, _impatient_. It feels as though it’s been entire lifetimes since Viktor has touched Yuuri’s skin and it’s _unbearable_. He has to touch, has to get his hands up Yuuri’s sweater. When he does, Yuuri presses wantonly into his hands. Viktor would be happy to fuck right here on the couch; in fact, he’s settled on that being the plan until Yuuri gets fingers twined into his hair and _pulls_.

“Take me to bed, Viktor.” The command drops from kiss-bruised lips, slick with their shared saliva.

Far be it for Viktor not to obey.

They somehow make it from the couch to their bedroom, losing clothes along the way. When they make it to the bed, Yuuri twists gracefully and shoves Viktor back. He’s on him again in the next moment, legs spread wide, ordering that Viktor get the lube. It’s fumbling, more so than usual with a tinge of desperation from them both, but they can’t stop kissing long enough to care.

Normally, Viktor could spend hours with just his fingers in Yuuri, opening him up by degrees until he’s fighting tears and begging in stuttered Japanese for him - but it’s Yuuri running the show right now and Viktor barely works three fingers in before Yuuri is gasping, “Enough, _enough_ , Vik _tor_ ”, and pushing him down flat.

Viktor tries to say ‘ _Are you sure you’re ready_ ’, but all that he gets out is “Are you-“ before Yuuri kisses him hard, stroking his tongue along the inside of Viktor’s bottom lip in a way that makes his toes curl.

Viktor gasps as Yuuri slicks his cock with lube, positions him against his hole. Fierce eyes catch his gaze. “I need you,” Yuuri hisses out, “ _right now_.”

There’s white noise as Yuuri bears down, then all Viktor can do is close his eyes. All he can think is _tight_ and _hot_.

He tastes saltwater at the back of his throat.

Viktor thinks he may be on the brink of passing out when he’s finally all the way inside Yuuri; fingers clutching desperately at the hips above him.

(Surely, _surely_ he’s leaving marks, there’ll be bruises where his fingers have pressed just _this_ side of too hard - and god, Yuuri with marks, Yuuri with Viktor’s goddamn _handprints_ on him-)

When he opens his eyes Yuuri is a vision, the setting sun casting a halo of light around him. Lips swollen, bitten red; dark hair clinging damply to his forehead. He watches his throat move as Yuuri gasps silently. Viktor is hit with a possessive urge to bite, leave more marks on this man (obvious, so _everyone_ can see) - though the idea vanishes like smoke when Yuuri looks at him in delirious pleasure and braces his hands on his chest to move.

Viktor clenches his jaw _hard_.

He can’t help the punched out “ _Ugh_ -“ that escapes his throat at the first shift of those damn hips. Yuuri grins down at him, smug, flushed and _beautiful_.

For a moment Viktor is terrified that he’s going to come on the spot.

Yuuri undulates in filthy thrusts, alternating between fast and hard, to _slow_ and _deep_ , until Viktor is moaning. He shoves his head back into the pillows, mind unravelling, helplessly jerking up before he can stop himself.

It’s hot, air sticky between them. Yuuri’s speaking but Viktor can’t focus on the words. His breath sends a puff of heat between the nearly non-existent space between their bodies. They’re sweaty, skin clinging together and when Viktor inhales his lungs feel like bursting with the humidity. He‘s lightheaded, drunk on Yuuri and on how good he feels. Strung out and desperate, everything resonating deeply in a way that he never experienced before this beautiful enigma of a man waltzed into his life and turned it upside-down.

God, Viktor really is a lucky bastard.

Yuuri does a dirty little twist with his hips before shoving down _hard_ , and Viktor swears he sees stars.

Leaning down, he takes Viktor’s lips in a deep kiss, tongue stroking a filthily against his own. Viktor’s mouth drops open on a gasp, and Yuuri takes the opportunity to bite down sharply on his bottom lip at the same time he slams his body down on another hard thrust.

Viktor’s cock pulses and he _whines_.

“Still with me, _Vitya_?”

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

Yuuri has only said that once before, a timid, breathy little whisper into his ear while walking home from Ice Castle. He’d immediately turned bright red, practically turning and running from Viktor. It filled him with elation then, to hear the affectionate name drop from his Yuuri’s lips.

That’s nothing compared to the way he says it now, dark and possessive - like he _owns_ Viktor.

And Viktor is powerless to do anything but shiver as he rushes to reply, “ _Da_ , yes - Yuuri, I’m with you, dorogoi moy - _blyad_ -”

He groans, suddenly very close to losing it and runs one hand up Yuuri’s back to fist in his hair. “Yuuri - _zolotse_ \- harder, pozhaluysta, _bozhe moy_ -“

Yuuri moans, the first sign that his control is beginning to slip. There’s a high flush all the way from his cheeks creeping down his chest. His movements become sloppier, more frenzied. Viktor is barely clinging on, wanting to hold out and be inside this man for just a little while longer.

He knows he’s coming apart, isn’t even sure what language either of their words are in anymore. Yuuri isn’t kissing him, both of them too near to the edge to have that coordination; they keep their mouths close though, breathing the same heated air.

(Viktor has never understood the need to be one with someone until Yuuri. He wants Yuuri in unexpected ways, with a force that shocks even him. He would crawl inside Yuuri and stay there, curled up in his chest forever if he could.)

Yuuri drops his forehead against Viktor’s, their eyes meeting and catching. It’s almost too intense, but Viktor can’t look away. He’s consumed, knows he’s absolutely wrecked down to his bones for this man.

He can’t stop moving his hands over the soft skin of Yuuri’s back, greedy hands smoothing down his spine, gripping his ass, fingertips nearly brushing where they are joined together. He could listen to the sounds Yuuri makes forever, a series of deep thrusts making him gasp out Viktor’s name.

He _loves_ when Yuuri says his name.

Yuuri is going to come, going to come _soon_ from the way his thighs keep tensing up from where they straddle Viktor’s hips.

“Ah, harder, Vitya-”

He grips one thigh, the other hand still twisted in Yuuri’s hair, and guides them into a faster rhythm. It’s dirty and sharp, Viktor thrusting as hard as he can from where he’s pinned, Yuuri slamming his hips back down.

Yuuri buries his face in Viktors neck as he shouts - his whole body shaking now, and _god_ Viktor feels so privileged to make him fall apart.

He knows he’s hitting him just right, Yuuri nearly bouncing in his lap now. It’s shockingly good, pleasure curling hot in his gut.

He tries to tell Yuuri that he’s close, but he’s certain the only thing that leaves his mouth is a spill of jumbled Russian. He’s so in love he feels sick with it, is dizzy with the force of his feelings for Yuuri.

_His_ Yuuri.

His Yuuri who undulates his hips in a dirty, slow grind and clenches hard on his cock. It’s over for Viktor then, harsh gasp ripping from his throat and all he can do is spill helplessly, hands grasping tight.

Viktor comes so hard his ears ring.

He’s so blissed out that he can’t even move for the seconds after, only realizing that Yuuri has come as well from the mess splattered up his chest.

Yuuri is still frozen, shaking in the aftershocks when Viktor guides him gently down and wraps him up in his arms.

They lie like that, tangled together, Viktor running his fingers through dark hair, and Yuuri hiding against his neck.

Yuuri finally stirs, just enough to murmur, “Shower?” He rubs his nose against Viktor’s adam’s apple and whispers out " _Vitya"_ , almost as an afterthought - like he hadn’t meant for Viktor to hear.

Viktor’s chest is so full with love for this man that he’s sure he won’t survive it, there’s just too _much_.

He bundles him in closer, grabs at Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezes.

Feels their hearts beating in sync.

“In a minute.”

Yuuri huffs a laugh and nods, settling in.

Viktor needs him like this for just a little bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Also holy SHIT ice adolescence trailer?? WTftFF omg. If you'd like to freak out about this with me, my tumblr is [here](https://gossamer-sky.tumblr.com/), I'd love to connect! (Also idk SHIT about the Russian language so apologies if I brutalized it!!)


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